


The Twist Within this Verbose Mystery

by Kalcifer



Category: Dangan Ronpa, Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa 3: The End of 希望ヶ峰学園 | The End of Kibougamine Gakuen | End of Hope's Peak High School
Genre: F/F, Post-Apocalypse, School Mode, Yuletide Treat, or you know at one point it was
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-03
Updated: 2017-03-03
Packaged: 2018-09-28 00:52:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10060109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalcifer/pseuds/Kalcifer
Summary: Mukuro had scripts for any situation Junko had thought would come up in the School Life of Mutual Killing, and a few that she didn't. None of them contained instructions for what to do when a rabbit from the future showed up and let everyone escape the school. Now she's stuck trying to keep her class alive in a despair world without giving herself away, and to make matters worse, Kirigiri is watching her far too closely.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Miss_Prince](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_Prince/gifts).



> When I saw that you'd requested this ship, I knew I had to write something for it. Then life happened, and suddenly it was February and I was only just finishing the fic. And now that I've looked at your letter again, this doesn't quite fit any of the prompts in it. Whoops.
> 
> Still, I'm actually very pleased with this. Thank you for giving me an excuse to get into Mukuro's head like this, and I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Huge thanks to NightsMistress, who betaed this ridiculousness despite my poor timing.

They haven’t even left the school yet, and already Mukuro is freaking out. Not that anyone would have been able to tell, even if they’d been paying attention to her. She’d slipped up with Naegi earlier, and now she’s twice as careful to emulate her classmates’ levels of enthusiasm.

But that’s the problem: she has to resort to mimicking her classmates, because Junko didn’t prepare her for this. The killing game, yes. Even the weird limbo of building unnecessary robots, though she hadn’t expected that at first. A Monokuma had showed up in her room that first evening, explaining that it would be funnier if they thought they had to kill their friends instead of strangers. “And if they’re really lucky, someone will get to experience the despair of being murdered by someone they love! Yay!”

Mukuro had been willing to go along with that, because Junko had wanted it. But not even Junko could have predicted the absurd situation in which she currently found herself. A robot that symbolized their friendship travelling from the future to save them? Junko had to be despairing at having her perfect plans ruined by something that ridiculous. Mukuro can’t claim to understand it herself, but she was never the smart one anyway. Besides, she has bigger concerns.

The rest of the class seems to have accepted this situation remarkably easily. She supposes that from their point of view, a robot rabbit is no stranger than a robot bear. Maybe they assumed that Usami rescuing them was all part of the show, their promised escape after the fifty days were up.

At any rate, they’ve all moved on, so Mukuro tries to play along. The decision has just been reached. they need to go get their stuff before meeting up in the entrance hall to leave together. Which makes sense, because as far as they know this is just a weird two-month break in their otherwise normal lives. Mukuro is well aware that it’s a pointless endeavor, but she still smiles and agrees with them, because “I just found the cutest shade of lipstick, and it would be criminal to leave it behind.”

She all but runs back to the room that isn’t hers, hoping Junko will take advantage of the privacy to give her new orders. Maybe she can stay behind and help Junko come up with a new plan, though Mukuro has never been the creative one.

She closes the door and locks it, then sits on the bed and waits. She waits, but no message comes. There’s no sign of Monokuma, either on the screen or in the flesh, and certainly no sign of her sister. Which is probably a sign in and of itself, really. Maybe Junko’s finally gotten tired of being disappointed.

Her immediate instinct is to stay behind, to wait out Junko’s displeasure and find a way to prove herself once again. But until she gets new orders, she has to assume that the plan is still on. She’ll continue infiltrating the class as Junko, and maybe find another way to subtly nudge them into despair.

Putting it in military terms helps. She stands up, grabs her two favorite knives and the smallest gun from their hiding spots. Then she stands so she’s facing the security camera, knowing that Junko is watching from her outpost within the school. “I understand,” she says. “I will continue my surveillance until you see fit to deliver new orders.”

She tries to smile, to look as thrilled as she should be by the prospect of bringing her classmates despair, but mostly she just feels sick. She’s all too aware of the many things that could go wrong once they’re outside the confines of the school. There’s no time for nerves, though, so she makes sure her weapons are adequately concealed and leaves the room.

She’s the last one to make it back to the entrance, and realizes immediately that she’s forgotten to bring anything that would explain her absence. “I decided it would be much more satisfying to leave a message on the walls,” she says, grinning so hard she thinks her face will split.

No one cares about the whims of a model, not when freedom is this close at hand. Everyone turns to face the exit, faces full of hope.

She watches them closely so she can mimic their despair when they see the world outside. She hopes Junko’s watching this. She’s got to be howling with laughter.

At first, the light spilling in keeps people from seeing the truth. It’s got to make a good picture, the fifteen of them standing in front of their literally shining future. Then their eyes adjust and they’re able to see the true desolation outside.

Everyone’s reactions are different: Hagakure is screaming and tearing at his hair, while Togami has gone very pale and says nothing. Even Naegi, so often the beacon of hope for their class, has fallen to his knees, his mouth open in a silent cry of despair.

It’s kind of funny at first, but the longer they indulge in this self-pity the more likely they are to be noticed by one of Junko’s followers. It would be a shame to have Junko’s elaborate plans for her classmates brought to an end by a random act of violence.

Mukuro is debating breaking character to take charge when someone else speaks. “Hey,” Kirigiri says. Her voice is so controlled and normal that it cuts through everyone’s despair, forcing them to take notice. “I don’t know what’s going on, but this isn’t going to solve anything. We need to find someplace to stay while we figure out what to do next.”

There’s a moment of silence as everyone digests her words. Mukuro steps up next to Kirigiri, trying to take advantage of the opportunity she’s created. “Yeah!” she says, trying to cobble together a vaguely plausible and Junko-esque reason to agree. “All this smoke can’t be good for my skin. We should totally find a place to get out of it.”

She resists the urge to wince. Skin, really? She might as well have said, “Ignore everything I say, I’m just a ditzy fashionista!” She hopes she hasn’t hurt Kirigiri’s point too much.

But Kirigiri just nods beside her as if she’s made a reasonable contribution. Naegi pulls himself up to join them. “I guess we should find out more about the situation before we freak out. Even if that’s a little hard right now…”

Everyone falls into line after that, however reluctantly. Ishimaru gives a speech about the importance of class bonds in these trying times, to which Celes simpers and says that she’ll be happy to use their presence to help her survive and gather more information but that they are certainly not friends. Still, everyone comes up with some reason or excuse to stay together and find shelter. They set out as a group.

The buildings closest to Hope’s Peak have all been destroyed, victims of that first, most terrible wave of despair. Mukuro knows this, but being trapped in the school with everyone else she hadn’t seen it in person. She’s used to warfare, but this level of devastation is new. In a battle, there’s no point in destroying a building once its occupants are dead.

Somehow, they manage to stumble along, pulling each other past ruins of buildings they recognize and doing their best just to keep each other on their feet. Eventually they find a structure that’s still standing, though it’s missing most of a wall. The power is out, but Fujisaki pulls out their e-handbook and the rest of the class follows suit, navigating by what dim light they can provide.

They pile into the basement, forming a loose circle on the floor. Not everyone is included, of course. Togami is still pointedly refusing to get too close, as if it matters anymore, and Fukawa seems to think this is all some sort of joke that’s being played on her. No one bothers to disabuse her of this notion.

No one speaks at first. It’s as if they think that things will be fine as long as no one acknowledges the state of the outside world. “Shouldn’t we barricade the door?” Hagakure finally asks. “What if it’s zombies, and they get in and we all get infected?”

“Dude, there’s no such thing as zombies,” Kuwata says, but he’s eyeing the door with suspicion.

Oowada sighs, standing up to search the basement. He eventually comes up with a stack of plastic chairs, one of which he shoves under the door handle. “Happy now?”

Kuwata looks like he’s about to say something else, but Oogami stands up and conspicuously moves to stand beside the door. She doesn’t say anything, but her expression is enough to discourage any further complaints.

That seems to be enough to lighten the mood, and suddenly half the class is talking at once. It’s all variations on the same question, and no one even pretends to have an answer. They seem content to just feed into each other’s confusion and terror. Mukuro doesn’t understand it, but she dutifully joins them, pitching her voice high and panicked.

Eventually a voice cuts through the fray. It’s Kirigiri, once again commanding everyone’s attention by virtue of her apparent serenity. “This isn’t helping,” she says. “It’s obvious that none of us understand what’s going on, but at the moment that’s not a priority. We need to find someplace to stay for the night.” She smirks, bringing a hand to her face. “That is, unless you want to stay here?”

Fourteen students look around the room with varying degrees of casualness. A unanimous decision is reached that no, the basement is gross and dirty and probably not a place they want to stay. With that settled, people begin pulling themselves to their feet with varying levels of reluctance.

Their ragtag group assembles in the doorway, Oogami having graciously cleared it while the others were grabbing their things. Of all people, it’s Yamada who convinces himself to cross the threshold first, explaining that he’s read about so many apocalypses that this is trivial in comparison. After that, they all surge forward. No one wants to think that they’re less resilient than Yamada.

Mukuro catches Kirigiri’s eye as she’s walking out the door. Instinctively, Mukuro smiles, trying to discourage any closer inspection. Kirigiri smiles back. Mukuro isn’t quite sure what to make of that, or of the fact that she’s so pleased by it.

There’s no time to worry about it, though. She’ll need to be on high alert for this next leg of their exodus. As they get farther from Hope’s Peak, there are more buildings left standing, and that means more places for possible assailants to hide.

They make it half a mile in relative peace. Mukuro can see people moving in the shadows of the wreckage, but their group is intimidating enough to convince them to keep their distance. It’s too good to last, though. They’re clearly the students of Hope’s Peak, and their affiliation with hope makes them a target.

The first ones to attack are a group in Monokuma masks, racing at them with baseball bats and machetes. Oogami drops into a fighting stance, as does Oowada, but Mukuro is already moving. She pulls out her favorite knife and slashes the first attacker’s arm, forcing him to drop his bat. She whirls to stab another in the leg, then uses the momentum to grab a third and snap his arm.

She scans the battlefield, but the two who made it past her are being dealt with by her classmates. She shrugs, pulls her knife free and stashes it again. It’s hardly her cleanest victory, messy and inelegant, but as it is she’s got serious damage control to do. She really wouldn’t know how to deal with the fallout of killing these goons in front of her classmates.

She turns to see most of them staring at her, open-mouthed. Fukawa has screwed her eyes shut and is muttering to herself, and Mukuro is sorely tempted to use Syo as a distraction. Unfortunately, everyone’s met her from their robot-building days. Mukuro’s just going to have to deal with this on her own.

She flashes a model-bright smile. “I told you I lived on the streets, right? There were some seriously gross people out there, let me tell you.” She looks down at her clothes in mock disgust. “I just wish fighting wasn’t so messy. Ugh, where am I supposed to find designer clothes in this hellhole?”

She’s still getting wary looks, but she’s hardly the weirdest thing that’s happened that day, so most people are willing to let it go. Kuwata claims the fallen bat, grumbling loudly about how he still hates baseball and just needs a weapon.

Kirigiri’s still watching her, eyes narrowed, but she acts like she’s absorbed in fixing her appearance, and eventually the other girl turns away.

There aren’t any other major incidents after that. There are still a few people foolish enough to attack them, but never in large numbers, so Mukuro is willing to sit back and let Oogami and Oowada handle them. Eventually they make it to a department store that’s clearly been looted and abandoned. Maizono suggests they go in, since it might have supplies and is at least a place to take shelter.

Mukuro hates the idea – the store has far too many entrances, which will make it hard to defend. And if an intruder does get inside, they’ll be too spread out to fight effectively. But it has food and beds, so “Junko Enoshima” wouldn’t complain.

“This place is really creepy without any people around,” Asahina says as they walk in. “I mean, I’m used to at least being greeted as I walk in, but now…”

There is a general murmur of agreement. This does nothing to improve the atmosphere.

Gradually, the class drifts apart, everyone searching for whatever goods they consider most important. Mukuro takes the opportunity to do a quick sweep of the store, but as far as she can tell, they really are alone in here.

By an unspoken agreement they regroup in the food court in the basement. It’s almost reminiscent of the past two months, people meeting up in the cafeteria after gathering supplies for the day. Items are spread across the tables to be shared, chocolate and canned soup and even some once-frozen mochi distributed as evenly as possible.

No one is thrilled with their haul, but no one wants to be the first to complain. Even Celes, though she’s clearly unimpressed, seems to accept that there’s no way to obtain royal milk tea in the middle of a wasteland.

The silence seems to have gotten to everyone, as they all start chattering about nothing in particular – about the weirdness of their escape, about what their plans for the future had been, about anything other than what’s waiting for them outside. As they finish their makeshift meal, though, the conversation dries up and reality sets back in. Finally Oowada speaks up. “We should probably set up a watch for tonight. You know, just in case some more assholes decide we’re a good target.”

Naegi nods. “Yeah, that makes sense. But we should probably do it in groups, I think. I don’t know how useful I’d be if someone broke in…” He laughs self-deprecatingly, but his point is reasonable. Mukuro’s just happy to see someone else bothering to strategize.

“Enoshima and I can take the first watch,” Kirigiri says.

Mukuro’s head whips around to face her. She doesn’t trust Kirigiri, not after earlier. But she also can’t raise an objection without making herself seem even more suspicious, so she just groans. “Fine, but I better get my beauty sleep after this! Not that I need it to be prettier than all the rest of you combined, of course.”

She smiles right at Kirigiri, who doesn’t react. Around them, people start grouping up and claiming shifts. After a moment, Mukuro turns to watch the conversation. It’s probably best not to give Kirigiri any more ammunition to use against her.

Once it’s all sorted out, they’ve managed to have someone in each group who is at least vaguely capable of self-defense. Admittedly, this category includes people such as Maizono, who tells them not to underestimate her skill with a knife, but it’s the best they can do. They start making their way up to the level with the display beds as a group.

Mukuro breaks away halfway up, hoping to lose Kirigiri as she patrols the floor. It’s wishful thinking, of course. She makes it away without any problems, but halfway through her route she turns a corner and sees Kirigiri waiting for her. She could probably get away, but doing so would blow her cover even further. She resigns herself to an awkward conversation and hopes that she doesn’t end up having to kill Kirigiri at the end of it.

Kirigiri looks her up and down as if she’s the latest victim in a case. Mukuro takes a moment to be amused that even without her memories, Kirigiri is every inch a detective. “It’s obvious that you’ve been lying to us this whole time,” Kirigiri says at last. “Who are you, really?”

Now, Junko did actually prepare her for this. She has any number of responses, depending on who’s asking and when. For Kirigiri, if she didn’t get very far in investigating the school, Mukuro’s supposed to say something along the lines of, “It’s obvious you don’t read any fashion magazines, but you have to recognize me from the covers. Or do you really think someone could imitate this perfection?”

Of course, that would have been more effective before Mukuro panicked and took out three men in less than a minute. Now she’s given herself away, and there’s no point in even trying to lie. She allows her stance to change, falling out of Junko’s brash posture and into something a little more natural to her. She’s not quite in a combat stance, but she’s able to drop into one into one at a moment’s notice.

Kirigiri takes this in with only a raised eyebrow, evidently not concerned that Mukuro might attack her. Which is foolish of her, but it lets Mukuro think that maybe they’ll both be able to walk away from this conversation.

Of course, now that she’s revealed herself she isn’t quite sure how to continue. She can’t exactly introduce herself as Junko’s twin, not without giving too much away. It doesn’t help that she feels strangely exposed. As little as she enjoys playing at being Junko, it lets her pretend she’s a part of the class. She’s never gotten to do that before, not while Junko needed her. It’s kind of nice.

A part of Mukuro, one that has Junko’s voice and her sickly-sweet smile, tells her that that’s why she should do it. Reveal herself and her part in the Tragedy, let the group tear itself apart in her wake. It would be much simpler, she thinks. But it will bring her sister no satisfaction, not if she can’t have a hand in it.

Mukuro doesn’t let herself acknowledge that she also really doesn’t want to destroy them.

She just looks at Kirigiri and says, “I’m a friend.”

That should satisfy her internal Junko. It’s enough of a lie to be entertaining, she thinks. Even before, they were hardly friends, and now they’re probably enemies. She assumes Kirigiri will keep working in the name of hope, anyway. They’re temporarily allies, but she will inevitably betray Kirigiri, and Mukuro is okay with that.

“I see.” Kirigiri doesn’t push, but she also doesn’t move to let Mukuro past.

Mukuro is used to standing by and awaiting orders, but she finds she wants to fidget under Kirigiri’s gaze. In the interests of actually managing to get through their patrol, she gives in and asks, “So what will you do now?”

“Well, we obviously can’t trust you.” Mukuro doesn’t react. It’s just a simple statement of fact, after all. It’s true, and it doesn’t hurt her in the slightest. “You’ve been lying to us this whole time. But you haven’t done anything to make us suspect you, either.” Kirigiri shifts, and a little bit of the tension leaves her body. Mukuro makes a conscious effort to mirror her. She doesn’t want to ruin the tentative peace that Kirigiri seems to be proposing.

“You’ve demonstrated that if you had malicious intentions, it would be trivial for you to act on them. And before we escaped the school, you were as much a part of the group as anyone else.” Kirigiri smiles, with just a hint of threat behind it. Mukuro is comforted to see it, despite the fact that she really shouldn’t be. “Unless you do something to make me revise my estimation of you, I think we’ll be fine. I’m going to keep an eye on you, of course. Don’t make me take you down.”

Even with the threat in the open, Mukuro can’t help but be reassured. It’s good to know that she isn’t going to have to leave yet, and she’s a little relieved to have an incentive not to betray the group for the time being. She’ll do it on Junko’s orders, but until such a time it’s in her own self-interest not to.

She nods. “Understood.”

“Now then.” Kirigiri dusts off her skirt. “I believe we have a patrol to finish?”

“Okay,” Mukuro says.

They make a lap of the building in silence. Mukuro finds herself caught somewhere between her desire to keep the disguise up and the futility of doing so. What she ends up with is a strange blend of her Junko persona and her own personality, with a little bit of the actual Junko thrown in. Kirigiri probably notices, but with any luck it will confound Mukuro’s true identity. She tells herself that that makes it worth the discomfort of being trapped between selves.

When they make it back to the bedding section, they both stop to take in the sight of everyone sleeping. There were only five beds, and some people were apparently luckier than others when it came to claiming them. Yamada lies buried in a pile of pillows on the floor, and Mukuro finds herself stifling a snicker at the sight.

Kirigiri walks over to where Fujisaki, Asahina, and Oogami have all squeezed into a bed. They look peaceful together, and Mukuro almost regrets disturbing them before she reminds herself that she still doesn’t care about any of her classmates. Oogami doesn’t remember any of their sparring session anyway.

Kirigiri leans over Oogami and tells her that it’s her shift. Oogami’s eye cracks open and she nods, then begins the process of waking up her friends. Mukuro quickly pulls her Junko disguise back into place, in case they notice her lurking in the shadows, but Oogami chivvies a yawning Fujisaki and mumbling Asahina into motion before they’re fully awake.

Kirigiri climbs into the bed as soon as they vacate it, then looks expectantly at Mukuro. It takes Mukuro a moment to realize what she means, and when she does she has to fight down a blush. Which is ridiculous, but to be fair she has been taken by surprise. She’s shared living quarters many times, but she’s only ever shared a bed with her sister, which was never a relaxing proposition. She’d known the instant she dozed off Junko would pinch her back into wakefulness, then spend the morning complaining about her “sleep-fighting”.

She briefly considers sleeping on the floor. It seems much simpler for everyone, and it’s not like it would be the worst place she’d had to sleep. But it’s not what the fake Junko would do, and she’s still not pleased that Kirigiri knows. Blowing her cover entirely to avoid a slightly awkward situation is probably not worth it.

She gets into the bed beside Kirigiri, studiously not looking at the other girl. She doesn’t even begin to relax until she can hear Kirigiri’s breathing even out beside her, at which point she carefully arranges herself to take up as little space as possible. She’s not expecting to get much rest that night. She starts matching her breathing to Kirigiri’s without even realizing it, and before she knows it she’s pulled into as deep a sleep as a soldier can hope for on the battlefield.

She’s one of the first to wake up the next morning. Everyone else was exhausted by the revelations and the trek of yesterday, which she can’t really blame them for. She slips away silently, careful not to disturb Kirigiri.

She grabs some makeup off the shelves, then goes to find a bathroom. She’s not entirely convinced that she’s doing it right, but she can hardly ask Junko now. At least covering her tattoo is easy enough.

Once she looks vaguely presentable, she finds herself at a loss. She’s gotten this far mostly by reacting to immediate threats. Now that she’s alone, things are almost peaceful, she thinks wryly. Not for the first time, she considers giving up and slipping back to Hope’s Peak, but she’s not willing to disobey Junko’s orders, even indirect ones. She ends up wandering down to the grocery aisles and trying to assemble something that could generously be called breakfast.

The shelves are still remarkably well stocked, though there are clear signs of looting. Food probably wasn’t the rioters’ first priority, though, which is both convenient and inconvenient for Mukuro. With such a vast selection, she finds herself unsure what to take. She spends a while trying to remember her classmates’ favorite foods. Then she remembers she doesn’t care and grabs whatever’s closest. She does make sure to get some coffee, though they’ll have to settle for instant. She picks up enough water bottles to brew it and starts making her way back.

She walks slowly, hoping not to draw too much attention to herself. She’s still not entirely sure of her makeup or her ability to maintain the Junko persona now that Kirigiri knows. As she gets closer, though, she realizes she doesn’t have to worry. A very distinctive laugh floats down the hallway. Apparently, while it was Fukawa who had gone to sleep the previous evening, Syo’s the one who’s woken up.

This isn’t the first time Syo’s made an appearance since the memory wipe, so they’re spared the mass hysteria of realizing there’s a serial killer among them. But even once you’ve met her, Syo has the ability to command attention, especially right after she shows up.

Mukuro creeps closer, trying to gauge the situation before making her entrance. “Did you finally get bored trapped in that school?” Syo is asking. “Realized you had urges you just couldn’t fulfill?”

“No! We were released by the fortunate appearance of a very kind rabbit,” Ishimaru says.

“So what are we doing camped out in a dingy place like this?” Syo makes a show of looking around. “What, it couldn’t be bothered to shell out for a hotel?”

“Well, we couldn’t exactly find a hotel in the middle of a wasteland,” Hagakure says. “Not this time, anyway. There was that one time I was finding myself in the desert and found a hotel in the middle of nowhere, but that place was weird. Called itself the Hotel California…”

Syo bites her thumb. “Right, the Biggest, Most Awful, Most Tragic Event in Human History. Boring!”

Mukuro freezes. So does everyone else, though for a very different reason. They soon explode into noise, but she can’t force herself to join them, worried that she’d ask the question that’s actually on her mind. How much did Syo know?

She takes a deep breath, thankful that she’s still hidden in the stairwell. It looks like Fukawa and Syo don’t actually share memories, at least. Had Fukawa mentioned that before? Junko has to have known, because Junko made it a point to know everything about their classmates. Maybe this was one of the flaws she’d built into the plan because guaranteed success was too easy for her.

But if Syo remembers the Tragedy, she knows about Mukuro’s existence. They hadn’t been friends, or even really interacted, but in a class as small as theirs everyone was at least acquainted with everyone else. Syo hadn’t commented on her absence while they were still in the school, but that didn’t mean much. Knowing Syo, she could easily make an offhand comment about how having the Ultimate Soldier with them would help, and Kirigiri might not be the only one to put it together.

There’s not much Mukuro can do about it, though. Syo’s unlikely to cooperate, even if Mukuro had a way to ask her without revealing the plan. Maybe knowing about the reality of the situation will convince everyone to stick together, so at least Mukuro will be able to keep gathering intelligence.

She still quietly returns to the food aisles to grab a container of pepper. It’s not an ideal solution, but it will raise the fewest questions if she needs to suddenly shut Syo up.

She gets back in time to hear the tail end of Syo’s explanation, something about how there was no art to the destruction of the world. She should probably have stuck around to hear it, if only to make sure she doesn’t say anything to incriminate herself, but she doubts anyone’s in a state to notice her absence. Besides, not everyone is awake yet, so they’ll have to go through it again anyway.

She dumps her food hoard on a table in the middle of the room, interrupting everyone’s shock. “What’s wrong with you guys? You’re acting like someone told you your dog died.”

Oowada makes a choked sound, and Fujisaki sobs harder. Naegi pulls Mukuro aside to break the news to her, and she does her best to act shocked and distressed. When they’re done, the others have managed to shake off their dismay enough to claim breakfast. Mukuro thinks that’s probably a good sign. It’s hard to manage a company when half your soldiers won’t fight.

Breakfast is even more subdued than dinner had been. Syo is still trying to needle people, but her antics are almost comforting when compared to the news that most of them can’t really process. As the last few people wake up, they’re taken aside by whoever’s closest to them to hear the news. Everyone politely pretends not to notice their distress.

Mukuro is a little surprised that Kirigiri is one such straggler. Much less surprising is the fact that Naegi is the one to explain the situation. She doesn’t pay any attention, of course. She isn’t watching Kirigiri’s face to see how she reacts. She most certainly doesn’t feel sick at the way a stricken expression flickers across her face before it settles back into her mask of indifference.

By the time Kuwata wakes up, even Syo has gone quiet, though not without protesting that they were no fun. Everyone pretends not to be looking when Oowada tells him.

Once Kuwata has calmed down, he comes over to join the group. The majority of them have finished their food, and now that they’re all awake people are growing restless. Once again, Kirigiri is the one to take charge. “I know this is a shock,” she says, “but we can’t afford to fall apart now. Our first priority should be ensuring our own safety.”

Togami snorts. “Thank you, Madam Obvious, but we could have figured that much out for ourselves. What I want to know is when we chose you to be our leader.”

“And I suppose you consider yourself more qualified?” Celes asks. She twirls a hair around her finger, though her air of elegant indifference is marred by the way her dress has rumpled in the night.

“As a matter of fact, I do.” Togami stands up. “I am the heir of the Togami conglomerate. She’s just a nobody who hasn’t even told us her talent. I don’t know about you idiots, but I don’t trust her, and I certainly won’t allow myself to be ordered around by her.”

“Yeah!” Syo says. “She’s not at all my type. I’d much rather be ordered about by my White Knight.”

Togami shoots her a look, and she smiles devilishly. They are spared any further exploration of this topic when Kirigiri speaks again. “I don’t care about anything as petty as who gets to call themselves the leader.” She crosses her arms. “All I want is to make sure we all get out alive.”

“That seems rather presumptuous of you. Who said we even intended to stay together?” Togami adjusts his glasses. “I’m sure that I could head to any of my family’s buildings and be welcomed, which would spare me any more of your company.”

Mukuro stands up and puts her hands on her hips. She’s still wary of drawing attention to herself now that she’s been found out, but she needs everyone together if she’s going to continue monitoring them. “And how do you plan to get there?” she asks. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but outside is kind of a death trap.”

“If those thugs could be taken out by someone like you, I’m sure I could handle it.” Still, Togami doesn’t pursue the topic of splitting up. Mukuro stares at him for a moment longer before sitting back down.

“If that’s all,” Kirigiri says, “then we can get back to the matter at hand. What do we do now?”

“We’ve gotta keep moving, right?” Asahina looks down at the floor, but it’s still obvious she’s been crying. “We should try to find other survivors at least, maybe even our families. There’s no way all of them are…”

Syo opens her mouth, but Oogami glares at her with such force that even she backs down. This doesn’t stop her from mumbling a reply, but it’s quiet enough that Mukuro can’t hear it. That’s probably for the best, really.

Oowada’s the one to actually respond to Asahina. “I dunno,” he says. “Is everyone here strong enough to survive out there? No offense or anything, but we have to protect the weaker people in the group.”

Fujisaki chokes on a sob. “Yeah, I don’t know if I can… I’m sorry,” they stutter out.

“It’s fine!” Maizono says. She’s looking far too cheerful, despite the tear tracks on her cheeks. Her eyes are too bright, as if to compensate. “You’re definitely not the only one. Besides, even for people like Oowada it’s probably too dangerous to go outside. I think we should just stay here for now.”

“Indeed!” Everyone jumps at the sound of Ishimaru’s voice, which is thick with tears and even louder than usual. “We should stay here and wait for the proper authorities to come for us.”

“Dude, do you really think there are still authorities?” Hagakure asks. “They were probably the first ones eaten!” He dissolves into terrified mumbling.

“I don’t know,” Naegi says slowly, ignoring Hagakure’s chanting. “I don’t think we can count on being rescued, but at least we have food and supplies here. Maybe for now we should just focus on trying to survive?”

Everyone is quiet after that. Somehow, in only two months Naegi has managed to befriend all of his classmates, and his opinion carries weight even with those who refuse to admit it. Mukuro can’t help but be impressed. He’s managed more in two months than she did in two years to be a part of the group.

“If we are to stay here,” Togami eventually says, “we’ll need to make some changes. At the very least, the entrance needs to be fortified, and I believe we should also establish a guard.”

True to her word, Kirigiri seems content to let Togami take over. Mukuro watches her expression as he talks anyway, just to be sure there won’t be any further conflict.

Oogami, Oowada, and Asahina volunteer to begin barricading most of the exits. “Once we finish, I would be happy to begin self-defense training with anyone who wishes to join me,” Oogami says as she stands. Fujisaki brightens at the thought.

Mukuro decides to take the chance to leave before anyone thinks to trap her in a conversation. She’s not convinced she can hit the right horrified-but-determined note to blend in. She’s not quite sure what to do, so she decides to start improvising weapons from whatever’s left in the store. Barricades are all very well, but sometimes you can’t avoid a fight, and she’s going to be prepared.

She sticks to the departments that her classmates are less likely to visit, and by the time people start gathering for supper she’s created a decent arsenal. It was actually kind of fun, once she’d gotten into it. The obvious weapons had all been claimed by the first waves of looters, so she’d had to get creative. She was particularly pleased with what she’d done with a calligraphy brush and a women’s purse.

The atmosphere at dinner is that of forced casualness, akin to their first days after the memory wipe. Everyone seems determined to pretend that they hadn’t heard that their families and friends are almost certainly dead.

Mukuro allows herself to be caught up in a conversation about music, though she has to cover for her lack of knowledge by claiming that life as a model doesn’t leave much time to seek out new bands. She has listened to some of Maizono’s songs, which the idol seems pleased by. She laughs it off with a comment about how ubiquitous they are, leaving out the fact that she’d only listened to it at Maizono’s own insistence just over a year ago.

She goes to bed not long after that. It seems like an easy way to occupy herself, and she’ll almost certainly be woken up at some point anyway. It will be nice to get some rest beforehand.

She tosses and turns for what feels like an hour, and when she finally manages to sleep it is light and troubled. When Kirigiri places a hand on her shoulder, she springs to attention immediately, hands flying to her knives.

Kirigiri steps back, eyes wide. Mukuro looks up at her and slowly forces herself to relax, feeling silly. Thankfully, Kirigiri doesn’t comment on Mukuro’s near-attempt at murder. All she says is, “It’s time for our patrol.”

“Right,” Mukuro says.

Kirigiri doesn’t move. Her eyes are narrowed and she’s staring at Mukuro, and she can’t read her expression. She fights the impulse to snap to attention.

Kirigiri shakes herself out of it a moment later. “Come on,” she says.

Mukuro does what she does best and follows.

The barricades seem to be working, as they don’t see anything that night. They don’t hear anything, either, not from the outside or from each other. Mukuro is torn between relief and disappointment. It’s nice to be able to interact with Kirigiri without having to pretend to be Junko, but she never knows what to say.

They finish their patrol before she can come up with anything. She’s expecting to have to share the bed this time, but she still hesitates. She’s still not entirely comfortable with the weird implications of intimacy, especially when she’s having this much trouble focusing on her mission anyway.

She gets into the bed anyway. It’s a little late to worry, and her arguments from last night are still true. She pulls her limbs to her body and tries to sleep.

The next day goes by almost in a daze. The store has enough supplies for the short term, and no one wants to acknowledge the situation enough to plan for the long term. Instead, people occupy themselves with petty things. The most structured part of the day is when Oogami holds another training session, and even that is only attended by half the class. Mukuro stays away, opting to try and subtly reinforce the barricades.

Days wear by, and Mukuro watches as the class falls into an uneasy routine. The stir-craziness of Hope’s Peak has mostly vanished now that they’ve seen the state of the outside world. By the end of the second day everyone feels grubby and unpleasant, but trying to arrange a bath would mean running through their water supply that much sooner, bringing them closer to the inevitable moment they’ll have to leave the store.

Mukuro wants to scream. Without any sort of goal or guidance, she’s trapped in this holding pattern of waiting to make a mistake. She can’t even gather any sort of useful information here. On the other hand, she is now intimately familiar with how long it takes Asahina to run a lap of the store and how Celes feels about every single card game in existence.

She spends a lot of time wandering, trying to avoid her classmates. She’s making yet another sweep of the store, adjusting her weapon stashes for optimal distribution, when she hears a commotion by the entrance. It doesn’t sound serious, so she takes her time and takes the stairs down.

When she gets to the ground floor, she sees Kirigiri arguing with someone who doesn’t seem to be a member of their class. As she gets closer, she realizes this figure is none other than Koichi Kizakura.

Her heart stops. She’s been able to pull off this deception only because none of the others knew of her existence. She doesn’t think she’d done anything to draw attention to herself before the Tragedy, but even so, there’s no way Kizakura’s just forgotten her existence.

Her first instinct is to run, to charge at Kizakura and take him out before he can ruin everything, but she forces herself to take a deep breath and think strategically. The fact that Kizakura found them suggests that he has ties to one of the resistance groups. That information will be far more useful to Junko than anything she’s gathered so far, particularly if Kizakura leads her to them.

She waits until her classmates start to notice what’s going on, then joins the crowd as unobtrusively as possible. That in and of itself might be suspicious under normal circumstances, but right now she’s just hoping not to get called out on the spot.

Closer to the entrance, she can see that Kizakura isn’t alone. There’s a muscular figure standing behind him, looking out on the street. For some reason, he’s wearing a cow mask. Mukuro dismisses him almost immediately. He’s likely there as a bodyguard, but he poses absolutely no threat to her. She returns her focus to Kizakura.

At the moment, he just looks confused. More interestingly, so does Kirigiri, though she quickly covers it with irritation. “You’ve already proven your lack of interest in my well-being. You can’t just show up suddenly after all these years and expect me to trust you.”

“Have you really forgotten me already?” Kizakura smirks half-heartedly, but his eyes are still worried. “What do you remember from the last two years?”

Kirigiri crosses her arms. “That’s not important. What matters is that we’ve been trapped in a school building for two months, escaped to find the world destroyed, and now a man that I haven’t seen since childhood just happened to show up to save us. Forgive me if I don’t trust you immediately.”

“Ah.” Kizakura’s face softens, which makes Kirgiri’s frown deepen. “I’m afraid I’ll have to fill you in later, then. For now, if you can’t trust me, think about it logically. Do you really think that whatever I have to say will be worse than squatting here?”

Kirigiri sighs. “No,” she says reluctantly. “Fine. But I’m not the one in charge.” Her mouth twists sardonically. “You’ll have to convince everyone else, too.”

She steps back, and the rest of the class surges forward. “Kirigiri,” Naegi asks in what he intends to be a whisper. “Who is this man?”

“An old friend of my father’s.” Kirgiri’s tone is casual, but she can’t hide the disgust that crosses her face at the mention of her father.

“How convenient,” Celes notes.

“Oh, and do you see anyone else stepping in to help us?” Kuwata asks. “I say we hear the guy out.”

The squabbling continues, the way it always does with this group. Mukuro pays them no mind. She’s far more concerned by the discerning look Kizakura is giving them.

As she fears, he speaks up as soon as there’s a lull in the conversation. “I only see fifteen of you,” he says. “Where’s Ikusaba?”

He locks eyes with Mukuro, and she tenses, ready to be called out. She’s got at least three weapons caches by the door, so disabling Kizakura will be simplicity itself. Then she can escape in the confusion, retrace their steps and regroup with Junko. It will mean admitting that she couldn’t handle the mission, but Junko’s got to be expecting that. Her sister knows her too well to expect success.

“Enoshima,” Kizakura says. Mukuro pauses. That wasn’t how she’d expected to be addressed. Maybe she still has a chance to salvage this situation. “Ikusaba’s your twin, right? Have you heard from her?”

Mukuro switches gears as quickly as she can, her classmates’ eyes burning into her. She’s sure Junko could think of something to defuse the situation, something clever that would have everyone laughing before dropping the subject, but Mukuro is only a pale imitation. She looks away from Kizakura, hoping to buy herself a little more time to think. “Yeah,” she says, “but I haven’t heard from Mukuro in ages.”

She pastes her brightest smile on, hoping it will hide her racing thoughts. “Did that disappointment manage to get into Hope’s Peak? Good for her!”

Kizakura keeps looking at her, and she keeps smiling, unsure how to continue. “She’s the Ultimate Soldier,” he says.

“Of course.” There are a million different ways Junko could finish that statement – of course she’s so boring, of course she has to take orders because she’s too stupid to make her own decisions – and Mukuro can’t figure out which one to use. She leaves it hanging awkwardly, her smile threatening to shatter her face.

She can feel Kirigiri watching her with her detective expression, and suppresses a wince. At least Kirigiri might be willing to wait and confront her privately.

Finally, Kizakura turns to the class as a whole, and Mukuro can breathe again. “At any rate, you all probably have questions. And I’ll be happy to answer them, but first, I think you could use a shower and a hot meal. I’ve got a helicopter outside. If you come with me, we can figure everything out at headquarters.”

There’s another flurry of excitement, natural paranoia clashing with the desire to find some semblance of normality. Mukuro knows that she should be contributing, should be trying to convince everyone to go with Kizakura. If she can infiltrate their headquarters, she might be able to take them down from the inside, which might make up for her failure to maintain her disguise. But at the moment, it’s all she can do to keep smiling. It’s like she can still feel Kirigiri staring at her, though she’s long since turned to join the argument.

Somehow the decision is reached to trust Kizakura, and once again the class splits up to gather their belongings. Mukuro circles the store, trying to decide what’s worth taking. She doesn’t want to make the same mistake twice, but it’s hard to think about frivolities right now.

She ends up grabbing enough makeup to maintain her cover, including foundation to last for the next year, and some of her smallest improvised weapons. She’s sure she’s forgetting something obvious, but she can’t focus enough to figure out what it is. Maybe she’ll be lucky and people will chalk it up to typical diva ditziness.

She’s one of the last people to make it back to the entrance. Kizakura’s been waiting there this whole time, inspecting their barricades. The class stands at a distance, watching him as if unsure what to make of this apparent deus ex machina. He hasn’t given them much to work with, seemingly content with annoying Kirigiri and nearly blowing Mukuro’s cover.

Kirigiri is the last to join them, pointedly turning away from Kizakura to start a conversation with Naegi. Kizakura doesn’t seem to notice, instead nodding at the assembled group. “Okay,” he says, “I’m parked right outside. Let’s go.”

Ishimaru falls into step behind him, closely followed by Yamada and Hagakure. The rest of the class trickles out the doors after them.

Mukuro can tell by the looks on their faces that they aren’t any more prepared for the state of the world this time. She tries to mimic their horror, but being in the midst of all this destruction is almost comforting. It reminds her of a battlefield, someplace she understands.

The helicopter is cramped, but that too is familiar, as is the silence of her peers. If Kizakura or his ally have anything to say, they’re not doing it over a channel Mukuro’s receiving. Her headphones continue to transmit only static as she stares across the desolate landscape.

It’s obvious when they’re getting close, as the landscape shows signs of life again. The roads are clearly being maintained, and there are even fields with crops growing in them. The sight makes the rest of the class perk up. By the time they arrive, it’s almost possible to forget that the apocalypse has already happened.

The building they land on shows signs of having been a hospital at one point, though its former name is covered with a banner that reads “Future Foundation”. Mukuro is almost certain that this isn’t their actual headquarters. It seems too small to host a resistance, and besides, she’s pretty sure Kizakura is smart enough not to lead them straight to the headquarters before knowing why they’re out of the school.

Kizakura’s bodyguard gets out as soon as they touch ground, heading into the building. Kizakura comes around to open the door, grinning. Mukuro removes her headphones in time to hear him say, “Here we are. I’m sure someone will want to question you all at some point, but right now you desperately need showers. Let me show you to the bathrooms.”

It’s clear once they’re inside that both Mukuro’s initial impressions were correct. The walls and floor are the sterile white of a hospital, though the effect is mitigated by the fact that only half the lights are on. The hallways are deserted but for them, suggesting that the real work of the Foundation is going on elsewhere.

Kizakura keeps talking as they walk, complaining about the lack of amenities and the stuffiness of his coworkers. Mukuro tries to pay attention, but she’s more interested in figuring out the layout of the building in case she needs to escape, and Kizakura never quite reveals anything useful anyway. His coworkers remain nameless, though she learns far too much about his opinion of the art hanging in their offices.

Kizakura eventually comes to a stop in front of a massive bathroom, eight shower stalls adorned with towels and basic toiletries. “There’s another one downstairs, so you guys can figure out how you want to split up.”

“I believe the ideal division is obvious,” Celes says. “We girls shall use this bathroom, and the boys can go to the one downstairs.”

Ishimaru looks like he’s about to say something, but Mukuro is suddenly desperate to get away from everyone, so she opens her mouth first. “Well, I don’t know about you guys, but I’m definitely using this one. I mean, look at me! I almost look less than perfect, and that just won’t do.”

She walks into the bathroom without a backward glance, grabbing a towel and heading straight into the shower stall. As soon as the door is closed, she wants to sink to the floor and just have everything stop for a few minutes. As a compromise, she lets herself relax out of her Junko stance.

She undresses immediately, but waits until she hears other showers running to take off the wig. Her head feels strangely light without it, like by removing it she’s reopened a wound and now she’s bleeding out.

She ignores the sensation and turns on the water. Washing off the grime from the past week will be a good distraction, she thinks. She’s vaguely aware of Asahina singing in one of the other stalls, but she can’t quite focus on anything.

She’s staring into space and bringing her hands down from washing her hair when she glimpses her tattoo, poking through the layers of foundation she’s been caking onto it. She stops and stares at it, this physical proof that she had an identity outside of Junko at one point. It doesn’t matter now, though. She’s got far more important things to do. She’s the only one who can understand her brilliant sister, and that’s worth putting everything else aside for.

Any pain she feels at the thought must just be more despair, another gift from Junko. She welcomes it, really.

She returns her attention to the task at hand. If she is to serve her purpose, she can’t let anything distract her, not even despair.

When she’s finally clean, she turns off the water and watches it trickle down the drain. She can’t quite bring herself to face the others yet. She tells herself that it’s just because she needs to let her hair dry out all the way before she puts the wig on. And she can barely put makeup on when her skin is dry, let alone when it’s wet.

By the time she’s able to pull herself together and back into her latest uniform, the bathroom is silent. Its occupants have all left, drawn by Kizakura’s promises of a hot meal. Mukuro knows she should join them, to replenish her energy and maybe gather some more information, but her façade still feels fragile.

She steps out of the shower and heads for the mirror, telling herself that she’s just adjusting her makeup. She doesn’t realize how out of it she is until Kirigiri clears her throat and she startles. She curses inwardly. If that had been Kizakura, she could be dead by now. Stupid useless Mukuro, not even good at the things that are supposed to be her talent.

“So,” Kirigiri says. “Mukuro Ikusaba, the Ultimate Soldier.”

“Yes,” Mukuro says. She doesn’t turn to face Kirigiri, pretending to be engrossed in her reflection.

“And Enoshima’s your twin?”

“Yes,” Mukuro says again. Unfortunately for Junko.

Kirigiri smirks softly. “To think, that it would be something so cliché.” She turns and begins to walk away. “Nice to meet you, Ikusaba.”

Mukuro stares at herself long after Kirigiri goes. She wonders what’s wrong with her, why she can’t bring herself to care that Kirigiri knows who she really is.

When she steps out of the bathroom at last, her shoulders are thrust back and her head is held high. She’s hoping her redoubled commitment will cover for the way she’s falling apart. “Don’t worry, I’m back,” she says to the group at large.

She seems to be the last one out, the rest of the class already regrouped and gossiping. Naegi smiles at her, and Kirigiri nods, but most people don’t bother to acknowledge her.

Kizakura pushes away from the wall he’s been leaning against. “The model returns,” he says. Mukuro tries to smile in that particular way Junko has, bright with just a hint of menace. “If we’re all finally ready, then, let me take you down to the cafeteria.”

It seems like showering has improved everyone’s mood, and they’ve relaxed enough to start breaking into smaller conversations. Mukuro tries to listen in, to insert herself somewhere and find safety in numbers, but she can’t quite focus. Other voices keep intruding and breaking up her train of thought.

She ends up lingering at the back of the group with Kirigiri. The other girl seems to still be trying to avoid Kizakura, and is so occupied with this task that she doesn’t try to start a conversation. Mukuro is ridiculously grateful for that.

They arrive in the cafeteria to find food already waiting for them, though there’s no one around to have prepared it. Kizakura makes his exit sometime in the commotion of claiming plates, and the class is left to itself once again. Mukuro wishes she could be relieved, but she can’t help but wonder if Kizakura is meeting with someone to reveal her as a mole.

While she’s worrying, Kirigiri is drawn into a discussion by Naegi and Maizono, so Mukuro has to flounder through the conversation on her own. She ends up responding to phrases as they float past, flitting in and out of conversations that she can only half follow. Always, she keeps her best Junko smile affixed firmly to her face.

They’ve all finished their food and have begun to get restless by the time Kizakura returns. This observation makes Mukuro realize that she has no idea what she was eating, which is never a good sign. It’s too late to worry about that, though, especially with so many other things to worry about. She allows herself to be shepherded back through the halls with the rest of the class.

This time when they stop, it’s in a residential wing. “It’s not the fanciest of accommodations,” Kizakura says, “but there are enough rooms for each of you to have your own. I’m sure you’ll appreciate the privacy.” He winks.

Before anyone can try to react to that, Ishimaru declares, “The girls had the first opportunity to shower, so it is my belief that the boys should have the first choice of rooms.”

There’s a resounding shrug in response. “Okay,” Asahina says.

The boys shuffle off, trying to find the best of the functionally identical rooms. Once they’ve settled, the girls do the same. Mukuro stands back and lets it happen, watches Celes order Yamada to give her his room and Asahina race to claim two neighboring rooms for herself and Oogami.

When the dust has settled, Mukuro walks to the nearest unclaimed room. It’s across the hall from Kirigiri’s. Mukuro isn’t sure why she notices that fact.

She goes inside and locks the door, then leans her head against it and closes her eyes. Everything was so much simpler when she could seal her identity away behind the titanium door to the school. Now she’s fighting a war between Mukuro Ikusaba the Ultimate Soldier and the inferior Junko she’s supposed to have become. For the first time, there’s a fight she’s not sure she can win.

She ought to rest while she can, prepare for the next battle. Kizakura will finally figure her out, or any of a million other things will go wrong, and she needs to be ready. But the feeling of the blankets on her skin feels suffocating, and she can’t bring herself to lie down. Without fully considering what she’s doing, she unlocks her door, stepping back into the hall.

She’d been standing at her door for longer than she thought, or else her classmates were just exhausted, because the corridor is empty. She looks down it for what feels like an eternity before crossing to stand in front of Kirigiri’s door.

It’s stupid, and she knows it. For one thing, she’s being melodramatic. For another, she needs to work on shoring up her Junko façade, and being around Kirigiri always seems to erode her walls.

And yet, it’s that same thought that drives her to knock. The sound is louder than she’d expected, seeming to echo in the empty hallway, and she winces.

When Kirigiri answers the door, her eyelids are heavy with sleep. Her eyes widen when she sees Mukuro standing there. Mukuro doesn’t try to explain herself, because really, she doesn’t even know where to begin.

After a moment, Kirigiri nods. “Come in,” she says, stepping back from the door.

Mukuro still hesitates in the doorway. Even if this weren’t an act of insubordination, which at the very least it is in spirit, she doesn’t want to intrude. Kirigiri doesn’t deserve to have to put up with Mukuro’s ridiculous drama, especially not after everything she’s done to her.

But Kirigiri looks more open than Mukuro has ever seen her, though Mukuro could easily be projecting her own vulnerability onto the other girl. Either way, she takes a deep breath and takes the step, then closes the door behind herself. The lock clicks like a gun being reloaded, and for the first time since they stepped out the doors of Hope’s Peak, Mukuro can fully relax.


End file.
